


What Comes After

by Atlantic_Seaglass



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aftermath, Domination Game, Gen, Post-operation consequences, Sequel, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28492524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atlantic_Seaglass/pseuds/Atlantic_Seaglass
Summary: Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart is faced with the fallout after a mostly-successful operation. Takes place after the events of the novel "Domination Game" so is essentially one massive spoiler.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. The Enquiry

One month. Just one month. Time had passed in an eye-blink, it seemed. There had been so much to do. The aftermath of any operation always took some time to deal with, but the Southrop business was different. In addition to the great deal of physical cleaning up work, there was, now, the procedural tidying up to contend with. This was where it became distasteful, for a formal enquiry had been convened.

Major-general Hamilton had warned him this would happen. The sudden, spectacular failure of a sanctioned Ministry of Defence project must be investigated. Summonses to appear had gone out to every officer of the Fifth who'd been involved, with the exception of Lieutenant Bishop. A written deposition had to suffice for him. Several copies of this were in the folder that Brigadier Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart was carrying.

There was no doubt this hearing would be difficult, however. As Hamilton had learned, both during the intel-gathering before the Fifth had directly intervened and in the weeks after, Sebastian Collins had connections. Many of them. Most, it seemed, were to powerful, influential people. Every piece of the operation, from the dispatching of the inspection team to the arrival of the two companies under Captain Berkitt's joint command to the reclaiming of the site by the MOD, not to mention everything that had happened after, had to be examined. Those connections insisted on it.

The need to determine the “truth” led to his being here today, alongside his officers. The enquiry itself was being conducted at the Palace of Westminster, in one of the Commons' select committee rooms. A more formal setting couldn't be imagined. It was unnervingly in keeping with the broader sense of dread occasioned by having to be here, to face what would certainly be an uncomfortable interview.

A pair of porters in matching black tail-coats, soldier-like bearing, and immaculately styled hair met them at Saint Stephen's Entrance and conducted them to the Witness' Waiting Rooms, where the junior officers were separated from the senior. Lethbridge-Stewart and Captains Lindsay, Berkitt, and Janson were ushered into one room, while the platoon commanders from A and C Companies shown to the other. One porter stayed with each group, clearly as a chaperone.

'Please sit well apart. You will be called in turn,' said their porter once the door to the corridor was firmly closed. 'There may be no conversation or talking in this room or in the corridor. No food or drink is permitted in this room or in the corridor. No contact with other witnesses or other persons is permitted in this room or in the corridor. You will be conducted directly to the committee room when you have been called. When your evidence has been given and you are dismissed as a witness, you will be conducted directly back to Saint Stephen's Entrance. No deviation or dalliance is permitted. Any vulgarity or misbehaviour will be cause for immediate removal by the Serjeant-at-Arms.'

It was a clear, concise set of directions. Doubtlessly, it was a speech this porter had given more than once. The four officers spread themselves out as much as they could around the room and prepared to wait to be called. There was no way to know how long any of this would take. However, Lethbridge-Stewart had no doubt it would be an exceptionally unpleasant process. These things were seldom enjoyable, of course, but this time seemed likely to top previous enquiries in its distastefulness.

In the overwhelming silence, unbroken even by the ticking of a clock, it was impossible to keep his thoughts from wandering, or his nerves from building. Just how thorough a grilling would he and the others receive? Who exactly was on the panel? How much stock could be placed in the panel's impartiality? For that matter, was this even an excerise to determine truth and facts, or was it simply a means to find a suitable scapegoat, other than Sebastian Collins?

The question of the panel members had been partially answered already, at least. Hamilton had told him it would be two senior parliamentarians, a senior civil servant, and a solicitor. He had no idea of the precise identities, however, and that made for a daunting question mark. Who, of Collins' wide circle of friends, would he be facing?

He caught himself drumming his fingers on the folder, which also held written depositions he'd ordered the A and C Company NCOs to produce. This was a sign of nerves. He stilled his fingers at once.

'Agreed, sir,' said Captain Lindsay from across the room.

'No talking, please,' the porter told them crisply.

Lindsay looked embarrassed and said nothing more. Conversation wasn't permitted between witnesses awaiting their turn to give evidence. They'd been told that on arrival. The attention to security was good, in Lethbridge-Stewart's view. It preserved the individual evidence from collusion. At least while here in Westminster. Even so...

He sat back a little in his chair and tried to calm his nerves. He'd appeared before military boards of enquiry before and considered himself almost used to it. This was still rather a different beast. Lindsay's experience with the court martial proceedings in his previous regiment gave him an idea of what to expect, which was better than going into this sort of thing cold. It would be worse for Berkitt and Janson, who lacked that same seasoning. Hopefully their discipline and good sense would help keep them from being provoked into making unwise statements. It occurred to him that he should have offered the junior lieutenants some guidance before they'd arrived here, so they might be at least partially prepared for what they'd likely face. Too late now, however. Damn.

His thumb began to tap at the folder again. Across the room, Lindsay grinned at him. The MO's hands rested in his lap, fingers laced loosely together. He had brought quite a pile of papers. These were in a chair beside him. It was a formidable stack, Lethbridge-Stewart thought. All of it would be the medical notes and records on each of Southrop's unfortunate victims from the time of their arrival to the care of the Swindon detachment of 206 Field Hospital. Those poor lads had required a lot of care. They still did, to be certain. But the week they'd spent in Swindon had gotten them into stable enough states to be transferred to more suitable facilities.

Lethbridge-Stewart flexed his hands slowly in an effort to keep them more silently occupied. It was damned difficult to not wonder what sort of questions the enquiry panel would put to him. Yet again, he mentally reviewed the operation, making sure he had all the important details in the forefront of his mind. The last thing he wanted was to forget something or have to cast about for a fact or name. It was vital to avoid seeming unprepared. Equally, he couldn't give his answers too readily. Calm composure would see him through this. Hopefully.

The door opened. A third tailcoated porter appeared in the doorway. 'Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, please.'

This was it. Lethbridge-Stewart stood up. With the waiting over, he felt suddenly much more nervous. These were the last seconds before the fall, when his breath froze in his lungs and his stomach lodged in his throat, only the heels of his shoes keeping him on the ledge. It was a short walk to the room the enquiry panel occupied but each step was like an increasingly firm nudge in the back, forcing him closer to the edge. Then the porter opened the door for him.

Lethbridge-Stewart drew in a breath, collected himself, and stepped through. The leap was made.

~

The panel were a grim looking set of five men arrayed on the opposite side of a long table. Lethbridge-Stewart's gaze came to rest first on the slim man in a brown suit. A pair of slim hornrims perched atop his sharply sloping nose as if glued there. This gentleman had a legal pad in front of him. Several pages had already been written on and were folded over the top of the pad. He sat at the left elbow of a slightly pudgy gentleman in a green suit, whose widow's peak jutted out from his receding hairline. There was a crispness in this fellow's eyes that suggested his mind was perfectly tidy despite the faint whiff of jolly disorder about him.

At this man's right elbow sat a naval officer in the usual sober uniform that marked out the Senior Service wherever they went. He wore a rear-admiral's sleeve braiding and shoulder boards, and had a collection of medal ribbons on his chest that almost made Lethbridge-Stewart whistle in admiration.

On admiral's right was a neat, trim gentleman in a navy blue suit that seemed to fit him like a second skin. Obviously he placed high value on tailoring. His tie was in the colours of the 5th Royal Inniskilling Dragoon Guards. He sat with his hands folded on the table top and had the air of a cat watching a mouse wander into the killing zone.

The fifth man sat at the left elbow of the man with the legal pad. He was noticeably round in the waist and had the sort of double chin that was the product of years of comfortable living. His fingers were laced over his belly and he leaned back in his chair, which only made his paunch more prominent. It wasn't at all a good look. Especially for a senior man of government.

The room's final occupant was a young woman with a stenotype in front of her. She was plainly dressed, her suit an unremarkable shade of maroon, and her brown hair rested rin inoffensive curls at the level of her ears. Her fingers rested on the keys and she appeared to have no interest in the proceedings except to take them down into official record.

'Sit down, Brigadier,' said the man with the widow's peak.

Lethbridge-Stewart sat and felt uncomfortably like a schoolboy facing a disciplinary board. The porter pulled the door shut with a firm _click_. The sensation of falling intensified.

'I am Sir Edmund Bellamy, Deputy Under Secretary of the Civil Service. To my right is Rear-Admiral Sir Arthur Wickham, Assistant Chief of the Defence Staff. To my extreme right is the Honourable Marcus Lloyd-Cooper, the member for Lewes and deputy chair of the Committee of Privileges. To my left is Mister Robert Manners, QC, of the Lord Chancellor's Office. To my extreme left is Sir Jonathan Fitzalan, the member for the Forest of Arden and Chair of the Defence Audit Committee. The purpose of this hearing is to determine the facts of the end of Project Future Warrior. These proceedings are being minuted by Miss Freda Poole.'

'I understand.'

Hamilton hadn't told him the entire story. “Senior civil servant” and “senior parliamentarians” understated matters. Somebody high up the chain must have decided this needed careful handling. Which meant he'd have to be mindful what he said. Even a word out of place here would have consequences. Lethbridge-Stewart settled the folder on his lap and strove to calm his nerves. It was unsettling to find himself faced with a panel like this. There was a bloody lot of clout seated on the other side of that table.

'Let's begin,' said Sir Edmund. 'How did you first hear of Project Future Warrior?'

'Through Mister Harold Chorley, who brought news of what he believed to be questionable activities to me in September.'

'Why you?' Fitzalan asked.

'Mister Chorley and I have worked together in the past,' Lethbridge-Stewart replied.

'As I understand it, Harold Chorley is a hack. I shouldn't be in any hurry to trust information he claims to possess.'

'It's unlike Mister Chorley to be alarmed enough to contact me without cause,' Lethbridge-Stewart replied calmly. 'As events have proven, he had ample cause.'

'Yes. _Events_ ,' Lloyd-Cooper said. 'I'd like very much to explore those events and their chronology. Project Future Warrior began in June. You learned of it in September. It had run successfully in that interim, until you interfered. What did Chorley tell you that made you decide to stick your nose in?'

'He reported that he had been contacted by someone involved with the Project who had developed reservations about the exact manner of research being conducted. Mister Chorley attempted to investigate on his own but got nowhere. It was at this point he contacted me for help.'

'Again,' Fitzalan asked, 'why you?'

'I have some experience in handling sensitive matters.'

'Elaborate, please. This project was outside your remit. It was, in fact, quite a secret and well-protected undertaking.'

'I'm afraid I cannot offer specifics, sir. Operational requirements prevent it. However, I can say that it was perfectly reasonable for Mister Chorley to come to me to raise the alarm.'

'What did you do with that report?' Bellamy asked.

'I informed my immediate superior, Major-general Hamilton, and asked for his guidance. We discussed the matter and agreed to send an inspection team of three people to Future Warrior's site at Southrop camp. This team was led by Lieutenant William Bishop and was also comprised of Corporal Sally Wright and Mister Chorley himself, as the sanctioned press correspondent.'

'In other words, a junior subaltern, a WRAC, and a hack,' Lloyd-Cooper commented.

'That is an intriguing choice of personnel, Brigadier,' Wickham observed as if Lloyd-Cooper hadn't spoken.

'All three were people Major-general Hamilton and I trusted to do the job asked of them.'

'A lieutenant has little real authority, however. A WRAC corporal has none at all. And a journalist, if Chorley qualifies for that description, is only as good as the newspaper he writes for. Chorley has none,' Fitzalan pointed out.

'It was decided that any appearance of suspicion should be avoided,' Lethbridge-Stewart told him. 'To send a more senior company officer and NCO would have created just that appearance. We wished to seem interested without being too officially concerned.'

'An admirable intention, but ultimately a futile one. There were immediate objections raised when the request for passes was submitted. Sebastian Collins was quite displeased that military attention was being forced on him, for work that had received the blessing of the Minister of State for Defence.'

'That was not a detail I was aware of.'

'I dare say there were many details you weren't aware of.'

'What did this team report, after their arrival to Southrop camp?' The question came from Bellamy, who cast a slightly frowning glance at Lloyd-Cooper.

'Lieutenant Bishop stated that they had received a tour of the facility, conducted by Mister Collins. While he accompanied them, they observed nothing out of order. However, they were allowed very limited opportunity to ask questions. While they were at tea, Corporal Wright was approached by a volunteer of the project who wanted to speak with them privately. She arranged to do so. Later that evening, after they were left to their own devices, she and Lieutenant Bishop met this volunteer. He told rather a different story than what Mister Collins had.'

'Indeed.'

'Indeed, sir. The fuller details are in Lieutenant Bishop's deposition, copies of which I have here.' Lethbridge-Stewart removed five typed and stapled copies of Bishop's formal statement and passed them to the waiting hand of the QC, Manners. He fell silent while the panel read the several pages, noting that Wickham and Manners made notes in the margins as they read.

'The volunteer's claims fall generally in line with Future Warrior's established aims,' Lloyd-Cooper said presently, setting the papers down. 'Its whole purpose was to strengthen the British soldier.'

'That may be, but the means employed to achieve that purpose appeared to Lieutenant Bishop to be somewhat suspect. The volunteer's physical appearance bore that out. They decided to spend the following day looking around unchaperoned, and in so doing, learned enough to give them grounds for more concrete suspicion.'

'Which this Bishop chap reported promptly?'

Lethbridge-Stewart nodded. 'He did. He also sought the advice of Doctor Travers, who confirmed his suspicions.'

'Travers.'

'Yes. Doctor Anne Travers.'

Fitzalan looked thoughtful. 'What connection does a Cambridge scientist have to a junior lieutenant?'

'They were colleagues for a time. Doctor Travers' assistance has been of inestimable value.'

'This volunteer,' Wickham wanted to know, knowingly or otherwise preventing Fitzalan from posing further questions. 'What value did he have to this team, beyond being a source of intelligence?'

'He became the means to raise an alarm if anything happened to the team. He was also an unsuspected pair of eyes and ears within the camp.'

'Why should Bishop believe anything might happen to him or his subordinates? They were merely an inspection team.' Lloyd-Cooper regarded him with a frown.

'It's a poor officer who fails to take precautions, even in the most seemingly harmless situations,' Lethbridge-Stewart answered. 'In this instance, Lieutenant Bishop believed there was something being kept from his attention, which suggested there might be some danger involved.'

Lloyd-Cooper tapped his copy of Bishop's deposition with a fingertip. 'I find this lieutenant's methods of information-gathering objectionable. Gaining unauthorised access to Doctor Waldergrave's private office and taking photographs of confidential records in the afternoon and outrightly breaking into secure laboratory spaces under cover of darkness that evening. Was there not sufficient assistance and access promised not only by Mister Collins but also Doctor Chivers?'

'In the context of what Future Warrior was truly doing to its volunteers, sir, I rather think a little sneaking about to be of no consequence. Certainly,' he pressed on, 'the attempt to recce the labs met with failure and capture. The consequences are laid out quite plainly in Lieutenant Bishop's deposition.'

'Hm. Indeed.' Bellamy flicked slowly through the pages. 'You say “capture” as though they were faced with a known enemy.'

'Which they were, Sir Edmund. Dominic Vaar was heavily involved in this project.'

'According to this lieutenant, that is,' said Lloyd-Cooper.

'He's far from the sort to be mistaken.'

'Perhaps, in this instance, he was. An honest mistake in perception is forgivable. The alternative to that is not.'

The back of his neck warmed. 'I hardly think this would be something Lieutenant Bishop would be wrong _or_ mistruthful about. He states that Dominic Vaar was present in the lab at the time of the team's capture. That is as good as fact to me.'

'Yet no evidence of Vaar's presence was found anywhere in the camp during cleaning-up operations. Nor was there any evidence that technology formerly belonging to Dominex Corporation had ever been in use. We only have the claim that this is true, offered by an officer who has suffered grievously and supported by a journalist whom no reputable newspaper will employ.' Lloyd-Cooper shook his head. 'There is very little _fact_ on offer of any misdeeds at all, in my opinion.'

'The volunteers were all in quite poor health,' Lethbridge-Stewart began, trying mightily to not lose his temper. The sheer _nerve_ to suggest that either of the two would wilfully lie about something of this gravity... if he hadn't been inclined to dislike Lloyd-Cooper already, he certainly did now.

'Not all, Brigadier,' Fitzalan interrupted. 'Far from it. There were several who appeared to have benefited from Future Warrior's efforts.'

'There were nearly thirty men involved in the project when we intervened. Of that number, there would inevitably be a few who were less affected than others. Particularly those who were, as I understand it, newly recruited. There were also quite a number who suffered considerable psychological harm which they will never recover fully from.'

'According to whom?'

'A number of people. Captain Lindsay, my MO, Doctor Costello of the Princess Margaret Hospital in Swindon, Doctor Gallimore of Cirencester Hospital, Doctor Booth of Saint Crispin's Hospital. I understand that other prominent psychologists and psychiatrists are being consulted as well. A great deal of effort is being made to assist these men.'

'Doubtlessly so,' said Fitzalan. 'But I should like to return to the subject of Dominc Vaar. Why would there be any suspicion of his being present in Southrop? I'm reliably informed he's safely tucked away in prison in Scotland, where he's been throughout all of this business.'

Lethbridge-Stewart would like to know who Fitzalan had for sources, because they were wrong. Vaar had been in Southrop. He hadn't seen him personally but he trusted Bill and, for that matter, Chorley. 'I have the fullest confidence in Lieutenant Bishop's report, sir.'

'You mentioned having “intervened” at Southrop. Why did you?' Wickham asked. He seemed content to pose his questions only when doing so interrupted one of the other panel members.

'There was no viable alternative once Lieutenant Bishop and his team were captured. He failed to report after a period of twelve hours. The volunteer Corporal Wright had secured as informant was able to escape from the camp and get to a telephone, from which he contacted my office. He informed Lieutenant-colonel Douglas that Lieutenant Bishop and Corporal Wright had gone missing. He had both of their ID cards as proof. I ordered the duty and standby companies of my Second Battalion down from Imber and made my way down from Edinburgh. We took over control of the camp the next day.'

This was a gross oversimplification of events, but the full truth could never be told. Especially not here, to a less-than-friendly audience. These men were proving the wisdom in keeping the Fith's operations as secret as possible.

'Why you? That is, what about this business required the oversight of an officer of your seniority?' Wickham, at least, seemed genuinely curious and not to be making veiled criticisms. 'Two companies as well. That's two hundred men, at full strength, I believe. A rather heavy-handed response on the face of it.'

'For the purposes of containing potentially hostile project staff, finding and looking after project volunteers, searching camp buildings, securing sensitive areas, and taking over camp security duties, two companies was just enough.'

Wickham was nodding, clearly accepting this. Beside him, however, Lloyd-Cooper looked cross. 'I fail to see how two hundred men were needed for that work, or indeed why an overtly armed invasion of the camp was deemed necessary in the first place. There were two people temporarily unaccounted for. They were found in short order, as I understand. There was no justification for the action you took. Nor, dare I say, was there any consideration shown for the civilian staff of Future Warrior who were subjected to harsh and callous treatment by those two hundred men.'

Despite wanting not to rise to the obvious bait, Lethbridge-Stewart felt warmth creep up the back of his neck anew. 'Based upon the information I had at the moment, and the awareness that my people weren't the sort to go quiet without good reason, I consider that there was perfectly sound military sense in acting as I did. Furthermore, I might remind this panel that Lieutenant Bishop was severely wounded and Corporal Wright was killed. If that counts as “found in short order” – '

'The honourable gentleman withdraws that remark,' Bellamy said with just a touch of frost in his voice and a pointed glance at Lloyd-Cooper.

'I repeat my first question,' Wickham said into the silence before it could become awkward. He showed no reaction to Lloyd-Cooper's insensitive comment but he was much too seasoned to be so careless. The forbearance was something Lethbridge-Stewart would be grateful for later. As it was, he was beginning to properly see red and had to exert a considerable effort to maintain his cool.

'Why was it you felt this operation couldn't be handled by a less senior officer? Major Leopold, for instance? Or even simply Captain Berkitt, since he was in immediate overall command of the two responding companies?'

'I chose to attend personally in order to prevent any questions about authority,' he replied in a mostly level voice. 'I was of course aware that Mister Collins was present on the camp. It would have been unwise to leave the operation in the hands of a subordinate when that subordinate was of a much more junior rank. He might have held his ground but any dispute over who trumps who would have cost time and potentially have caused needless difficulties. As it was, no such conflict occurred. I was able to leave the operation entirely in the hands of Captain Berkitt, who did a sterling job.'

'While you did what, exactly?'

'One of the volunteers and I entered the laboratory building to search for Lieutenant Bishop and Corporal Wright. They were on the lowest level of the building. When we found him, Lieutenant Bishop was in a bad way. The urgency was to get him to safety. I sent Corporal Wright ahead to alert my MO but the building was beginning to crumble above us. I didn't know until we'd gotten Lieutenant Bishop to safety that Corporal Wright hadn't made it above ground.'

'Which volunteer was with you?' Wickham asked.

'Corporal Oliver Sugden. His assistance was beyond value, despite the desperate state of his health. I've since recommended him for a medal.'

'Rightly so,' the admiral agreed.

'Rot,' sneered Lloyd-Cooper. 'I've heard of this corporal. He's reported to be a sodomite.'

'I have no knowledge of that,' Lethbridge-Stewart said neutrally. 'I know only his gallantry.'

There was a scoff from Lloyd-Cooper, but he was kept from commenting – no doubt crudely – by Bellamy, who asked, 'Was it known the laboratory building was of faulty construction before you entered it? We also come again to the question, “why you”? Was it necessary for an officer of your seniority to take on so common a task as searching a building for missing persons?'

The answers to those questions must be carefully considered. Lethbridge-Stewart therefore took a second before answering them. It wouldn't do at all to let on that Lloyd-Cooper's crass behaviour was getting to him. 'I learned, many years ago, that no officer, whatever his rank, should be unwilling to do anything he might ask his subordinates to do. I would never conceive of sending any of my officers, or indeed any of my men, to do a job I was unprepared to do myself. Quite apart from that, as I have indicated, every man of the two companies present was actively employed. During operations such as the one at Southrop camp, no one can be idle. Even senior officers. That's why I chose to make the search of the laboratory building myself, with Corporal Sugden to assist and guide me.'

'Despite his “desperate state of health”.'

'Indeed. He was very unwell but didn't let that prevent him from finding the captured inspection team or from carrying Lieutenant Bishop to safety. I couldn't have managed that on my own.'

'Indeed.' Fitzalan tugged seemingly absently at an ear. 'That building collapsed. Soon after you left it, you've said. Do you know why?'

Lethbridge-Stewart shook his head. 'The OC of the engineer troop sent down to conduct the search of the rubble told me there was no way to be sure what exactly caused the collapse, but he speculated it was an organic fault in its construction, caused by careless, rushed building methods.'

'Who is this officer?'

'Lieutenant Samuel Ridley.'

'He is on the list of witnesses I summoned, Major,' Bellamy told Lloyd-Cooper. 'He appears tomorrow.'

'Yes, of course.'

There was a slight cough from Wickham. 'I'd like to refocus a little. What are the exact arrangements for the long-term care of the project's volunteers?'

'That may be something better asked of Captain Lindsay, sir, but as near as I recall, the most needful men are being looked after at Saint Crispin's in Northants. I believe there are six in total. A group of perhaps ten are at Cassel Hospital in Richmond. I'm not certain of the numbers beyond that, but the non-Forces men who require it are recovering at the Royal Herbert Hospital, while the less-needful men from the various services who require it are at Aldershot garrison hospital.'

'What of those who require no convalescence? '

'Again, that's a question better asked of my MO, but generally, those men who were deemed fit enough for it were debriefed and offered the opportunity to take a discharge. I understand that a few did. Others returned to their respective units.'

'Do you have a list of these men and those units?'

'I don't. That is information my MO is more likely to have.'

Wickham nodded, but Fitzalan was frowning. 'What category does this Corporal Sugden fall into?'

'Long-term care, sir. I've spoken to him since the operation. He is taking a discharge, though he would have preferred to continue serving.'

'What service was he?'

'Royal Marines, sir.'

'Commando?'

'No, sir. He's quite proud to be “unlidded” as he terms it. By trade he was a PTI.'

The admiral looked thoughtful and made a note on the back of Bishop's deposition. 'Rewinding a little, again. At what point, Brigadier, was the decision taken to make use of a TA hospital detachment, and who took that decision?'

'My MO was responsible for that, sir. He contacted the OC, Major Carstairs, of Two-Oh-Six Field Hospital's Swindon detachment early in the morning of the day of the operation. This detachment was called out, stood to, and established a fully-functioning hospital ward in their own drill hall, in less than five hours. They then offered sterling care to the volunteers when we brought them in and maintained that care, around the clock, for a full seven days – two days beyond the estimate of five Major Carstairs gave me initially. No one could have asked for better from any of them.' He hesitated, then decided to simply go for it. 'I should like to recommend the entire detachment for formal recognition, if not a medal. Their conduct truly was exemplary.'

'I'll pass the matter to the appropriate body, Brigadier,' Wickham assured him.

'I should like to know,' Fitzalan asked, beating Lloyd-Cooper to the punch, 'who will bear the cost of all of this? Such a dispersal of men to varied facilities seems to me a clever way to avoid incurring too great an expense in one place. Not to mention, the emergency calling out of a TA unit has additional cost in terms of inconvenience to civilian employers. Why was this the option chosen for immediate post-operation medical support, when the hospital at RAF Wroughton was more capable than a field hospital detachment of handling the demand of the moment?'

'Foremost, sir, we considered that it was best to maintain our own security, which would have been impossible had we gone to Wroughton. Second, using that TA unit benefited the TA unit in terms of providing them with an opportunity to be temporarily operational and use their varied skills to fulfil an actual military need. Arrangements were made after the fact to treat that seven-day period as a sanctioned activation. Due compensation was offered to any civilian employers who demanded it.'

'What of the use of NHS facilities and resources to treat military patients?''

'That's a question better put to my MO, sir.'

'We have, I think, got quite past an important point,' Lloyd-Cooper cut in. 'Let's rewind, as my gallant colleague phrases it. Where, in all of this business, was Mister Collins?'

Lethbridge-Stewart blinked, surprised at the sudden change of subject. 'I couldn't say, sir,' he replied. 'Mister Collins was not found until Captain Berkitt's men searched the admin block. As I understand it, he was dead on the floor of his office.'

'You did not, at any point, speak with him while you were on the camp?'

'No, sir.'

It was a lie, of course. A necessary one. To admit to seeing Collins before going to save Bishop was to admit that much more had been going on at the camp that could be reported. Not even this panel could know the full truth.

'I see. Did you see either Doctor Waldegrave or Doctor Chivers, then?'

'I did not, sir.'

Fitzalan pursed his lips. 'Tell me about the activities of this engineer troop, Brigadier. Why were they involved in this?'

'I wished to recover Corporal Wright's remains, above all else. It was also important to attempt recover any records or equipment that might have survived the building's collapse. Lieutenant Ridley's men did their best to achieve both these objectives. They also recovered the remains of a man who couldn't be identified but was presumed to be Doctor Chivers.'

'What became of this man?'

'He was handed over to Cirencester Hospital's mortuary. As I understand it, he was buried in Chesterton Cemetery as “an unfortunate unknown”.'

'And Corporal Wright?'

'She was also recovered and was escorted home by her immediate superior, Sergeant Dorothy Boyd. Her family handled all of her funeral arrangements.'

'So,' said Lloyd-Cooper, somewhat brashly, 'in all of this, you had no connection at all to Sebastian Collins?'

'That's correct, sir.'

'This brings us once more to the question of “why you”, then. There's no discernible reason for you and your unit to become involved, outside of some undeclared connection, good or otherwise, to Sebastian Collins. Given how all of this business ended, I find it impossible to believe there was no ulterior motive behind _your_ corps and _your_ people swanning in to spoil what had been a reasonably promising project.'

Lloyd-Cooper was something else entirely. What a disagreeable... 'I fail to see your point, sir.'

'I'm astonished.' Lloyd-Cooper frowned. 'It seems to me that the reasons you've offered for sending an inspection team are thin, at best. That team's findings before their “capture” are unconfirmed by any other source. The team itself was of questionable composition, as has been noted by my honourable friend. This supposed “capture” gave you the excuse you needed to send in nearly an entire battalion to take over the camp. In the process of that invasion, you “rescued” your lieutenant, who was magically severely wounded, with the supposed assistance of a buggerer. The WRAC corporal oh so unfortunately failed to make her own escape before the building, conveniently, collapsed on itself. That hack Chorley claims to have no reliable memory of anything that happened. Sebastian Collins is dead and Doctor Chivers has completely disappeared and presumably is also dead, again quite conveniently for you. On top of all of that, your network of military friends has enjoyed varying benefits because of this business and the manner in which it was handled. You'll forgive me, I'm sure, if I don't buy a word of what you've told us today.'

'I think – '

Admiral Wickham rose partway from his chair. 'Thank you for your evidence, Brigadier. That will be all.'

Seething and not of a mind to conceal it, Lethbridge-Stewart stood. He put his heels together and marched stiffly out. The abruptness of his emergence from the room still failed to catch out the porter waiting outside. It was likely impossible to do so.

'This way, please,' said the porter, and led the way directly to the exit.

Such was Lethbridge-Stewart's foul mood that he nearly walked straight past the car in which Corporal Stirling was waiting.


	2. The Support of Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After such a difficult day, unwinding in comfortable surroundings is the only solution.

A fire crackled soothingly in the grate, radiating warmth into the sitting room. Lethbridge-Stewart gazed into the flickering flames and tried to settle his mind. He had only a moment before reached the sanctuary of Phineas Hetherington's townhouse but had yet to begin to relax. It was difficult to persuade himself to unwind. The ordeal of the enquiry had left him with a persistent lingering sour mood, despite knowing nothing was served by wallowing in it.

His host returned from the kitchen and the sitting room felt immediately smaller. Phineas Hetherington was tall and very broad, a man whose physical presence was effortlessly matched by his air of cheerful authority. He was a man who wore many hats: he was formerly a Regular officer but now commanding a TA regiment of Royal Engineers, he held a day job at the British Museum, and took on occasional work outside both those realms the details of which were known to very few. No one in Lethbridge-Stewart's acquaintance better personified the “soldier-scholar”.

He had been an impressive figure when Lethbridge-Stewart had first met him at Max Dawlish's funeral, and over time had only grown moreso. Hetherington was well-travelled and experienced, in all of his fields, yet he treated nearly everyone instinctively as an equal. His sense of brotherhood led to his willingness to host not only Lethbridge-Stewart but also his captains while they were in London. It was the most recent favour extended, in quite a lengthy list of favours.

Hetherington carried a bottle which was wrapped in a tea towel in one massive hand and a tray of Glencairn glasses in the other. Unlike Lethbridge-Stewart, he was dressed down. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, his tie loosened, his jacket tossed over the back of a chair near the fire. He was without question someone enjoying the comfort of his own home, in the company of friends. Even when those friends outranked him.

'Macallan, Fifty-five,' the engineer said as he set the tray down onto a chair-side table. 'The only thing to take the edge off.'

'Thank you,' said Lethbridge-Stewart. He breathed out and tried, again, to nudge himself into relaxing.

'So. You survived.'

'Just! The whole lot of them were looking for a scapegoat for this business, Lloyd-Cooper especially. He was worse than a bulldog with a bone.'

'Lloyd-Cooper, eh?'

'Yes. He's a damned disagreeable chap.'

Hetherington poured a generous measure of Macallan into a glass and passed it to him. 'I've heard of him. He has a lot of friends in Westminster.'

Drink in hand, Lethbridge-Stewart crossed to an unoccupied chair and sank into it. 'He certainly spun a damned curious version of events, which he seemed to have decided to be the truth. Despite everything I said.'

'Politicians are like that, Alistair.' Hetherington settled into his customary chair by the fireplace and grinned. 'You're at the rank where politics becomes a part of daily life. Better get used to it!'

'Mhm.' He lifted his glass to breathe in the faint whiff of citrus and warm sherry, before taking a taste. Its flavour was smooth, smoky, with hints of chocolate and spice. He took a slightly longer sip and savoured the half-mouthful. Quality stock. But he could expect nothing less under this roof.

'His colleague Fitzalan was hardly any better. They were both bloody difficult. The apparent panel chair didn't do much to curb either of them.'

'Who was that?'

'Sir Edmund Bellamy.'

'Ah, yes.' Hetherington shook his head. 'I've heard of him.'

'And?'

'You won't catch me out so easily, Alistair. You'll have formed your own opinion of him anyway.'

That was true enough. He certainly had. 'Is there anything you can tell me about Rear-Admiral Wickham?'

Hetherington laughed. 'Ah, now, maybe I can!'

'You can, but will you?'

'Not at all, but for rather different reasons. Arthur Wickham was part of Room Thirty-nine in the war. What I know of him because of that cannot be shared.'

Lethbridge-Stewart frowned quizzically. Room Thirty-nine? He'd never heard of it.

'Naval intelligence,' Hetherington clarified.

'Ah yes. Of course.'

The engineer's eyes twinkled with good humour. 'Is there anyone else you'd like me to not tell you about?'

Some of his sour mood was dissipating. 'No, I believe I'll rely on my own conclusions.'

'You've already learned the most important rule, then.' Hetherington sipped at his own whisky. 'Having said that, influence counts for more than does individual perceptions. People will believe what's put to them, if doing so benefits them in some way. Scruples wither to dust quite quickly. Thus is life in Westminster.'

'So I see.'

The conversation waned naturally at that point. Lethbridge-Stewart was glad for the companionable silence. It let him reflect on the grilling he'd been given more open-mindedly. He was still aggrieved by Lloyd-Cooper's presumption, but he thought he could see how it had been arrived at. He could also guess why it had been stated in that venue – it was now in the minutes.

Lloyd-Cooper might be a pompous ass, but he was a clever one. He'd placed a viable, if erroneous, interpretation of events onto the official record. The basis for exonerating Sebastian Collins from wrongdoing was being laid. The very idea made his blood begin to simmer again, but Hetherington was correct. This was life in Westminster.

Fortunately, Lethbridge-Stewart had some influence of his own. He could withstand a certain amount of bad press, so to speak. He also knew being known as Hetherington's friend would help. It was remarkable, really, how well the engineer had settled into the unique pace of life in the capital. But then, he'd long suspected Hetherington knew the benefit of cultivating friends in the right places – not to mention, he was a Classicist, in addition to being an engineer, and his position at the British Museum afforded him a natural respect.

'You know,' his host mused presently, 'it will be interesting what the mood will be like in certain places tomorrow. I may have to keep my ears open.'

'I do marvel at your personal web of connections.'

Hetherington grinned at him. 'You'll build one of your own soon enough. I think there's a more than fair chance you can count Arthur Wickham in that web, once all the dust has settled.'

'Perhaps.'

The doorknocker thumped twice, prompting Hetherington to rise from his chair. He returned a few seconds later leading Captain Lindsay, who was all but spitting feathers. It was all too easy to guess why. Not that his MO intended to keep them in suspense.

'That panel is a flaming joke,' Lindsay snarled, all but flinging his hat at the nearest side-table. ' “Impartial fact-gathering” my bollocks. It's a damned inquisition!'

'Sit down and have a dram,' Hetherington advised. He was already pouring out a healthy measure of Macallan.

Such was Lindsay's choler that he thoughtlessly gulped at the whisky, which at once kicked him in the throat. He sputtered and coughed for a moment, which, happily, took a little of the edge off his temper. 'Marcus Lloyd-Cooper,' he gasped, 'is the least impartial brainache to be found anywhere. I didn't like him before and I damned sure loathe him now. If I see him again – '

'It's best you don't finish that sentence, Captain,' Hetherington cautioned him cheerfully. 'Sit down and sip that properly. It deserves to be enjoyed with respect.' He waited until Lindsay had obeyed before asking, 'How do you know Lloyd-Cooper?'

'He was the adj in the Fifth Skins, when I was their MO. A self-absorbed prat then and now. He “retired” after Barrowford's court-martial.' Lindsay scowled. 'Ducked responsibility, more like! He did his best to pretend nothing was being stolen, that it was all just a mistake in the books, until SIB got involved. It was all about circling the wagons then. The old boys' club did what it does best then and it's doing it again now, you can be sure of that!'

'I take it he was a difficult interrogator.'

'Was he! He went over everything at least twice, especially my medical judgements. Even his mucker Fitzalan got grumpy with him by the end of it. But he was desperate to prove I'd behaved improperly in some way, and I'm not saying that because I can't stand the air he breathes. The panel chair had to tell him to belt up eventually.'

'Were you asked anything relating to the operation itself, or just the medicine?'

'Just the medicine. He was determined to catch me lying or otherwise show me to be incompetent.'

Hetherington sipped his whisky thoughtfully. 'If his bias is that open, it may be obvious to discerning minds. I'll have a quiet word with an acquaintance tomorrow. It might be possible to take the edge off his statements with the right conversation with the right person.'

'I don't quite see why he was harsh with me as well,' Lethbridge-Stewart remarked. 'But he was rather keen to build the impression that I was somehow overreaching my own authority.'

'That's simple,' replied Hetherington. 'You kept Stephen in the Army, after he'd publicly embarrassed a regimental officer by exposing his misdeeds and had, in consequence, also embarrassed Lloyd-Cooper for his inability to correctly manage the scandal. He's clearly of a vengeful bent. This is an opportunity for him to discredit Stephen and also you.'

'I see.'

'He's a stain,' Lindsay growled into his glass. 'Just as well he's out.'

'It can be argued he has more influence now than he had while he held a commission. Handling his attempt at vengeance must be done carefully.'

'What do you propose?'

'That,' Hetherington replied, 'is a question better left unanswered.'

That was fair. Damned sensible, actually. Lethbridge-Stewart didn't really want to know the finer details anyway. If he knew them, he was, indirectly, complicit with whatever the engineer had in mind.

Lindsay set down his glass so he could loosen his tie. 'I'm not opposed to boxing his ears flat instead.'

'Which is of course out of the question.'

'I'm curious,' said Lethbridge-Stewart, as a means of taking the heat out of the air. 'Do we know what will become of that Waldegrave chap?'

'He's to face a GMC tribunal,' Lindsay replied. 'Some time in the next few weeks. I'm due to give evidence at that. So is everyone who had anything to do with the post-project care of the volunteers. If there's any justice, he'll be struck off and get sent down for the rest of his life.'

'It could be he's also attempting to bring your integrity into question before that tribunal sits. But, that's another thing to leave to me.' Hetherington smiled. 'But to move on. How many should I expect for dinner this evening?'

'Six, I believe. Us two, Captains Berkitt and Janson, and likely Major Hulland-Rumney.'

'That's all right then. Sam's planned for at least nine, including him, myself, and M'sieur Römer.'

'Are we permitted to ask about the menu?'

Hetherington grinned and sipped his whisky. 'You'll just have to wait for dinner, my lad,' he said, and refused to be drawn any further on the subject.

~

It was a relief to put the day's unpleasant events behind him. On their arrival to the house, Berkitt and Janson had offered summaries of their respective ordeals in front of the panel. They'd been treated much the same as had Lethbridge-Stewart and Lindsay, it seemed. The focus appeared to be on painting the Army as unwanted invaders, trampling over a perfectly honest project on the cusp of success.

Shop talk ceased when the final guest of the evening turned up. Major Hulland-Rumney, as he now was, had come directly from Chelsea Barracks, where he'd lately been duty officer. It was good to see him again. The catching-up on mutual comrades was enjoyed over refreshed tumblers of whisky and, surprisingly, turned up a couple names that one of the others were also familiar with.

Then a Royal Engineer lieutenant in shirtsleeves and an apron appeared in the doorway, to inform them that dinner was served. The company adjourned to the dining room and here were collectively introduced to M'sieur Römer, an elderly gentleman who was dressed formally for dinner. He greeted all of them by name and rank, and apologised for failing to join them for the pre-dinner drinks.

'I find that Scotch does not agree with me these days,' he told them, in an accent that wasn't quite French but near enough to count.

Hetherington waved at the table. 'M'sieur Römer is partly responsible for this magnificent spread, so I'm quite prepared to forgive him.' The big engineer sat at Römer's right hand, seeming happy to cede the head of the table to him.

No seating arrangements had otherwise been made, so Lethbridge-Stewart sat at Römer's left hand. An officer of his rank could hardly have settled anywhere else, he thought.

The aproned engineer lieutenant bustled around, setting down and opening bottles of red wine. It was left to the individual guest to pour his own glass, which was perfectly acceptable. At any rate, Lethbridge-Stewart was too busy marvelling at the feast that dominated the centre of the long table to really notice anyway.

A roast rack of lamb had been carved and arranged neatly on a large oval serving dish. Delicate sprigs of rosemary garnished it. There was also a platter of what looked liked cupcakes, a dish of cauliflower cheese, another of devilled kidneys, and a long loaf of very fresh-looking bread. If this was truly the work of just two men, it was an effort not to be snubbed. Lethbridge-Stewart shook out his cloth napkin and laid it into his lap. Just as well that he was hungry.

Soon enough, the serving dishes were much less filled than they'd been when everyone had sat down. The aproned engineer lieutenant had even joined them, after trading his apron for his khaki jacket, so as to be suitably dressed. Lethbridge-Stewart felt compelled to sit back in his chair, in order to take pressure off his well-filled belly. What a splendid meal. Especially the “cupcakes”, which turned out to be fondant potatoes. And the lamb, done to a turn and flavoured perfectly.

'I think you're wasted in the Engineers,' Captain Janson declared, looking very happily full.

'You're not the first,' the lieutenant, Sam Ridley, replied.

'What astonishes me,' said Hulland-Rumney as he refilled his wine glass for the fourth time, 'is that I'd never imagined better hospitality to be possible outside of the mess.'

Laughter rolled around the table. Lethbridge-Stewart shook his head at the offering of the wine bottle. It was top quality stock – a Chateau Rouget – but between the earlier whisky and the dinner wine, he judged he'd had plenty to drink. He was at the pleasantly merry stage and was happy to stay there.

'There are benefits to keeping your own table,' Hetherington told him. 'Not that I should ever conceive of slighting the fare offered at a Guards' mess.'

'Tush! Quality must be commended.'

'I've never had the honour of dining in a Guards' mess,' Berkitt observed, 'but if it's of this high standard, I may reconsider my choice of posting.'

More laughter rang out. Hulland-Rumney beamed at Berkitt and made a show of beckoning him closer, as if he had some great secret to impart. 'You'd be welcome, sir, provided you have no objections to an occasional bit of, shall we say, _bear-baiting_.'

Lethbridge-Stewart's face immediately warmed. 'Oh come on – '

'There's a story here,' Lindsay cut in, his own face flushed but for a different reason. 'Let's hear it!'

'There is indeed a story,' said Hulland-Rumney, draining his glass with a flourish. 'A dashed good one. It was the night the gallant brigadier here skewered his own bearskin because he was so unbelievably foxed that he reckoned it was trying to attack him.'

'Push off!' Berkitt said.

'He never, surely!' Janson seconded.

'Hand to God,' Hulland-Rumney replied. 'He used one of the swords from above the mantel to do it. It was as beautiful a forehand cut as ever I've seen.'

'I did not!' Lethbridge-Stewart protested. 'That was entirely Blackwood's doing! I never laid a finger on that wretched thing!'

Guffaws filled the room. At the head of the table, M'sieur Römer smiled gently over his wine glass. 'He protests, therefore he owns the charge.'

'Indeed! Indeed he does!' Hulland-Rumney beamed and refilled his glass once more. 'Face it, Al my lad, you did give that poor bearskin what-for. The QM wasn't best pleased next morning, either, I can tell you!'

'It cost me a twenty-year-old bottle of Scotch as well,' Lethbridge-Stewart added, unable to keep from grinning. 'And the indignity of a fitting for a new bearskin later that day.'

'All the more reason I chose the Engineers,' Lieutenant Ridley declared. 'No danger at all of being out of pocket for wrecked kit!'

'That, my good fellow, is the wisest thing I've heard said all night.' Janson plucked the bottle from Hulland-Rumney and topped up Ridley's glass with it.

'To bearskins!' Hulland-Rumney cried, lifting his glass so abruptly its contents nearly sloshed over the rim.

'Bearksins!' The other diners echoed, and to a man emptied their glasses in one long swallow. In this manner were the day's troubles washed entirely away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, posted with only a few edits.   
> Character ownership: Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart belongs to the Haisman estate. Major-general Hamilton and Stephen Lindsay are the creations of A. Allen. Max Dawlish and Major Hulland-Rumney belong to A. Leeds. Everyone else is mine.

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted with only a few edits, so apologies if there are any snags in it. I needed to write this as a natural summing up of everything that happened in "Domination Game".


End file.
